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2012-09-04 A Hawk and A Skull VS Dealers
New York City. 6:00 PM. September 4. 2012 Central Park. It's been one of those days that is almost dreary in a way for the city. While it hasn't really rained, or even just sprinkled, the sky has been gray as clouds have blotted out the sun. This in turn could be one of those reasons why the city itself has been a bit dreary, or at least has come off as such to some. It's not something that should majorly depress people, but at the same time it hasn't been something to help cheer them up like a nice sunny day would. And of course the lack of sunlight in turn has drawn out a bit more of the cities seedier elements. At times it's almost as if, the less light there is, the more crime there is. Central Park has always been a perfect example of that in this city. Thus some of the criminals, the petty thieves and drug dealers have been out a bit more in the park today. And yet as the sun sets, it's almost like the ones in the park are becoming even bolder, while more criminals, potentially worse criminals, start to drift into the small patch of forest in the big city, to do what they feel they have to do. And of course, where the criminals are, so will there be those that are trying to stop them. Case in point, there is a woman with a bow in the bushes down by the resevoir, watching a small group through a pair of binoculars. What she's watching for, and probably waiting for probably isn't evident just yet. But considering how long Kate Bishop aka Hawkeye has waited for tonight, she can easily afford to wait a little longer. It's been a long time since a nice, sunny day has cheered Frank Castle up the way it really ought to. Weather is just one more variable in the chaotic logistics that keep the lone vigilante alive; while he's been known to appreciate a good storm, inclimate weather can really complicate a straightforward op. Grey? Overcast? It just brings the night in early, and the shadows serve the Punisher. Said vigilante looks relatively unassuming in a park scattered with addicts and the homeless, lurking along the treeline in an old, ragged longcoat, his already broad frame hunched over into an intentional, deceptive slouch. Castle stalks the same quarry, that group of hooligans he can almost sense seeking out evil acts; then again, in New York it's hard not to catch that reek around every street corner. The Punisher's eyes dart here and there, sounds-- motions-- or the hint thereof all that challenges his focus. Periodically, a small spotter's scope comes out to scan the surroundings as the trenchcoated stalker slips closer. His movements may be unhurried, but his approach is precise and calculated-- slipping from tree to tree, cover to cover, never fully visible for long as he takes his time getting bearings and intelligence on his apparent quarry. If that extra movement is noticed by Kate as that other vigilante moves, she doesn't let it show. But then again, considering The Punishers experience and training, she might not see him until it's 'too late' anyways. Instead though, as another person starts towards that group, someone who appears to have a bulging backpack and a large briefcase, Kate slowly lowers her binoculars, puts her 'sunglasses' back on, raises her bow, and places an arrow on the string before ever so slowly pulling it back as she takes aim. No words are spoken, and there's no fast or sudden movements. Instead, it's as if Hawkeye is lining up her shot, and waiting for the right opportunity... If the Punisher has his way, none of them are going to give him a second thought until it's way, way too late. As attention shifts to the VIP meeting about to happen in thugsville, Frank sets up his position off their flank. It's either by design or dumb luck opposite to Hawkeye's angle without bisecting her line of sight; or his own. Castle's shrug is too nonchalant as he drops a rigged Mossberg 590 from inside the longcoat into his right hand. The pistol-gripped pump action is drawn, raised, and fired in the span of seconds-- even if one of the criminals -were- looking right at him, they'd have trouble doing more than yelling about it in the time it takes Castle to draw and align that little red dot (likely mounted to the gun for just this occasion) across the legs of the courier. The shotgun roars a moment later, sending a spray of shot in a tight cylinder across the meet. It's low to the ground, aligned to catch calves, ankles, knees; painful stuff, not likely lethal without some bad arterial luck, though. Frank pumps the weapon again, but rather than advancing, he drops back into the treeline, and flanks back the other way. After firing one more across the bow. It's a hollywood-perpetrated myth that the shotgun is useless beyond the range of one's fist, as the carefully aligned buckshot demonstrates-- Frank Castle is an educator. The simplest way to put what happens when Frank opens fire is to simply say that it's chaos. One of the thugs, not the one with the backpack mind you, just happens to move at the very last second, blocking the line of fire as Frank opens up... And that thug falls. The others though start to turn, and start to draw their own weapons, but in the instant that they do that Frank opens fire again and again. more and more fall, due to the buckshot before they really have a chance to do much of anything. Even the courier falls, sometime around the third time the gun is fired. As he falls, the briefcase hits the group, and spills its contents, revealing stacks of paper. Not money, but instead very specific and special paper, most of which is in the form of little books. Of course as Kate hears the shotgun blasts, and notices the criminals falling, she practically dives for cover off to the side herself, trying not to get caught in the spread. Of course as she jumps, Hawkeye also fires off a single arrow in the direction that the gunfire appears to be coming from. Why? it's unclear. but then again, considering how these guys are going down, and her own views of things, she might actually be trying to keep them alive. To Castle's credit, each shot is taken carefully, endangering primarily his own targets-- not that some would say that's a great deal better, but he does what he can. If he /wasn't/ aware of the stalking archer beforehand, it's a sure bet that the unerringly accurate arrow alerts the Punisher rather abruptly, twanging out of a tree scant inches in front of his face as he ducks back into the treeline for the third time. Either way, Castle lets out a long, low whistle. Other than Hawkeye's alarming shot, there's not much coordinated reprisal coming Frank's way, and with the 'Compact Cruiser' pumped and primed in his right hand, the Punisher exits the copse in dramatic fashion, a scoped .357 longbarreled Colt coming to bear in his left. "Anyone who's hand touches a weapon, I reserve the right to shoot again." Notably, neither weapon is trained on Hawkeye, but perhaps the /majority/ of Castle's attention is on the archer. As he steps forward and announces his terms, the stylized death's head stares out from the body armor worn under his coat, flaring behind him in the breeze. The wandering hobo's full stature - and true nature - are suddenly all too apparent. Of course as soon as that arrow hits the tree, Hawkeye is already prepping to fire a second arrow. But before she can fire it, The Punisher makes his ultimatum. "Drop the gun." Yeah. That's all Kate can say as she looks directly at Frank for a second. She doesn't fire the arrow, or even really aim it at him, but she doesn't put it back in her quiver either. Then her gaze drifts towards the criminals, or more importantly what fell out of the brief case, which causes her to let out a low whistle. "And I knew you guys were running drugs... But that... That takes things to a whole new level, doesn't it?" Frank hangs the Mossberg back inside his coat, still advancing with the readied revolver. "One down, why don't we call it a good night for a compromise?" The veteran snarks out gruffly, still making no move to neutralize or defend against Hawkeye-- though the smooth alertness of his advance, the distance he keeps from her and the unpredictable group of wounded criminals, the calm clarity in his subtly shifting, evenly attentive gaze would all speak to the quickness with which that could change. Or perhaps how readily it could have already, if he intended it to. Frank doesn't speak his questions, instead circling the area and taking in everything he can-- getting eyes on the backpack and the briefcase, for one. He sort of figured one of them would trade working legs for info on their management; but something tells him this.. girl has a different play. "Aren't you a little young for this?" Again, Frank's attention shifts to Kate, eyeing her sharply on the periphery of his scene-securing sweep. "Funny. I was about to ask if you're a little too blood thirsty to be doing this." is said by the female archer as she slowly releases the tension on her bow string, and places her arrow back in her quiver. Why? So that she can walk over and move closer to the group of downed criminals, before she in turn can try to pick up on of those bundles of paper that hit the ground. And if Frank's keeping a very, very close eye on Kate, he may even notice that it looks almost like she bumped something else in her quiver as she put that arrow away. "Visas.... Blanks, but either real, or insanely good fakes." she tosses the one she picked up at The Punisher. "Since you shot 'em, you get to do cleanup." Yeah, she doesn't ask they guys who were gunned down to talk. While sure she wants to know what's going on, she knows that as things are now, the answers she might get won't help. besides, odds are the police will be here soon, if only to respond to reports of gun fire. There's a nonplussed little frown on Frank's face, scarcely changing with the insinuation, and he lets out a deep sigh. "See, I thought I was being pretty restrained..." One stirring fellow starts to creep away, only to get a booted foot on his back, as Castle turns to catch the sailing Visa. He gives it only a cursory examination now, but pockets it swiftly. "But then I've seen what these jokers do to the women muling their product." The anger is pronounced, unmistakeable-- fire and ice all at once roaring in the tone, as he drops low and clasps a hand around the lucky contestant's neck. "Thanks for volunteering." The one that showed up with the important shit, if Castle kept track as well as he hopes he did-- either way, he only has time to take one for questioning. Assuming Kate doesn't make an issue of his version of cleanup, it'll have to be the one he needs. If one of his comrades decides to make (more of) a scene? Well, that's what the tear gas grenade Frank drops in their midst while snagging his favorite is for, of course! Tick tock. There is a pause as Frank mentions what happens to the women, before Kate pauses and glances back. Her grip on her bow tightens a lot as she looks back. "All the more reason for these clowns to be in jail." is said in a voice with just a slight hint of anger. But then as Frank starts to do his brand of 'cleanup', she actually walks away, while he does his 'questioning'. Why does she /not/ stay o hear the answers? Why does she head away, and back deeper into the park. There is an answer to that, but what it is isn't apparent. Especially not as sirens can be heard heading in this direction. "Send 'em to Con College on the taxpayer's dime if you want." Hell, Castle lets exactly that happen.. this time. The tear gas goes off, obscuring his own egress with his selected black marketeer back towards the treeline; it also robs any fight from the remaining criminals, and leaves a nice beacon for the police. Not a scene anyone's going to stumble into, in the meantime. "Me? I'm a fierce proponent of home-schooling." The Punisher informs the goon he's got by the neck, chuckling in a manner that's none-too-reassuring. Frank then cold-cocks the guy in the temple with the butt of his revolver, and hoists him over his shoulders, making a forced march double-time towards an old, rusted out van that used to be sky blue on the borders of the park. 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